A/N: Oh my God, SO sorry this took so long. Real Life got a tad hectic :L But anyways, here it is!
Just a quick note, I have decided to change the title. As it shows, it's now Thunder and Lightening. Enjoy, and cyber cookies for those who review :)
As Cuddy comes out of her subconscious, the first thing she notices is the most horrible, blinding pain in her leg. As soon as she feels it, she lets out a groan and reaches her hand down, massaging it lightly. Then she frowns, realising that her thighs have ballooned over night. Squeezing again, she shifts her hips slightly and then feels something odd... Something shifting between her legs.
Moving her hand over... She grasps a penis.
Her eyes shoot and open and she lets out a yelp. What? She pushed up off the bed and peers down, through the green fabric of the hospital gown. And, sure enough, there is something dangly, and suspiciously penis-like.
Wow. It's big too.
She then glances at her arms. God, they're hairy. Grimacing in disgust she thinks about how she's never had arms this hairy, not at any point in her life. Actually she never had any of this, or arms this thick, or a penis, or...stubble?
Clearing her throat, she gazes around the room. Standard ICU room - so she hasn't been committed and heavily drugged so she doesn't remember choosing a sex change operation... Or having someone choose it for her.
"House!" She barks, and then frowns at how deep her voice is. She assumes that it must be from sleep, or sedation... Actually, it didn't just sound deep, it sounded like...
House. Why the fuck does she sound like House? Testing, she says, "that top makes you look like a prostitute."
Oh. Dear. God.
She shoots up from her lying position and run a hand through her new short, bristly hair. She runs callous fingers across stubble and feels the bullet scar on her - his? - neck. As she continues down her body, her heart racing, she notices the inherent absence of breasts.
Moving her torso experimentally, she raises her eyebrows as no "funbags" move with her. Having had breasts of some kind since she was twelve, not having them anymore certainly is unimaginably odd... Actually so is all of this.
Gazing across the room, she picks up a bedpan and stares at her reflection. Her mouth settles into an "o" shape and she utterly speechless. She must be dreaming. She must be. There's is no way that she can be here, in House's body. This kind of thing happens in lame TV shows, and movies. Not in real life.
Feeling a sense of panic well up in her stomach, she sees a shadow fall across the ICU room. Eyes wide, she watches as her own body strides across the room - barefoot - and grinning inanely. She is completely lost as herself comes and stands in front of her... She has no idea what to do.
After a moment, she forces out, "what happened to your - my - shoes?"
"They were slowing me down," House shrugged. "And they made it harder for me to reach your legs."
"House?" She said apprehensively, begging for it not to be so.
"Yes, Cuddy?" Her own voice replied, then let out a girlish giggle. "Oh House, you are so handsome! And brilliant. And your penis is sooooo - "
"Enough!" Cuddy silenced, swatting his arm. "This isn't funny! What the hell is going on?"
"Well," he explains, manipulating her voice so it's throaty and sultry, "it appears that I am inside you." He pauses. "And not in a good way."
Cuddy opened her mouth to retort, but House beat her to it, "actually, it's pretty great in here. I now have an all access pass to all your fun parts."
Just to prove it, as if she didn't believe him, he squeezed her breasts together and leaned forward, showing her just how impressive he could make her cleavage. "Yes," she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm, "my breasts are fascinating."
In her peripheral vision she could see people wandering the halls, and the last thing she wanted right now was someone to walk in on her squeezing her breasts for House. Sure he may be in a hospital bed, but he'd been in a hospital bed many times before and not once had she provided in-bed entertainment.
"House," she threatened, throwing the covers back, "let go of my breasts."
He raised a hand to his lips with "I've been naughty" expression on his face. Squeezing them tighter, he challenged, "make me."
Blowing out a breath she swung her legs out of bed and stood up.
Then, she fell over.
The leg pain was excruciating. Throbbing waves of pain shot through her limb as she lay on the floor. She clutched at it helplessly, tears shooting to her eyes. House stood there - having let go of the twins - and watched her ambivalently. When he saw the tears, he scoffed. "Don't cry."
She stared at him incredulously. "It hurts."
"Oh, does it?" He replied snidely, obviously with little or no sympathy. She watched him carefully, gauging his reaction to her pain. While she could see the corners of his eyes crinkle - signifying that he did feel just the tiniest bit of empathy toward her - his face remained mainly impassive. She locked eyes with him for a moment, before shutting her eyes tightly and riding out the next wave of pain.
"D-d-do you h-have anything," she exhaled forcefully, "for it?"
"Me?" He pointed to his chest. "No. But, you might have something in your blazer pocket."
Cuddy stared around the room. She wasn't wearing a blazer, or any clothes at all, just the regulation hospital gown. Eyes spinning wildly, desperately trying to locate some sort of pain relief, her gaze settled on a neatly folded pile of clothes at the end of the bed.
She stuck an arm up, but fell short in terms of reaching it. "Damn," she hissed, attempting to put weight on her leg but failing.
House watched this display, half amusement and half pity. Yes, seeing Cuddy like this - helpless, for once - was kind of funny, in a perverse way. But... He wasn't seeing Cuddy. No, he was watching himself. He was watching himself writhe around on the floor in pain... And while he knew that he couldn't feel it - evident by the utterly amazing absence of pain in his right leg - he could imagine it. And the last thing he wanted while he got to take a holiday in Cuddy's hot little body was to be reminded of his own pathetic-ness. So, charitably, he reached over and tossed the jacket down to her.
"Thank you," she rasped, pulling the bottle of Ibuprofen out and taking two pills dry.
As she leaned against the bed frame, being watched by a superior looking House, she just concentrated on her breathing. She knew it would take twenty minutes or so for the painkillers to kick in so she'd just have to wait until then.
However, she may have been in pain, but that didn't mean that she couldn't explore this. "House," she said more evenly, "how did this happen?"
He shrugged. "Beats me."
"You don't care?" She asked incredulously.
He shrugged again, infuriatingly. "Guess not," he replied, as if he'd only just realised it. "But I can see why you would. I've upgraded, and you... well, haven't." He smirked. "Plus, you're stuck with a bum leg and I've got the girls. So... I guess I don't mind." He finished, and Cuddy just stared.
"I don't want to be you," she grumbled. "I like being me."
"I can see why," he agreed. "Though I honestly can't understand how you get any work done with these lovelies right under your nose."
"It's an acquired skill," she muttered, reaching out a hand and getting him to pull her up. Awkwardly, she tested some weight on her leg. She placed gentle pressure, and smiled when it held. But, inevitably, then she tried to walk. And as soon as she attempted as step, she nearly collapsed again.
Thank God House was there to catch her. It was hard, since she was now the lumbering gimp and he was the petite female, but he managed to hold her up sufficiently. "Forget something?" He teased, unhooking the cane from the end of the bed.
Grumbling, she snatched it off him and placed it down with the leg. Thankfully, she found she could walk. Satisfied with how it held her weight she started to walk, trying to drag House with her so they could talk about this properly. "Hey," he stilled her, "slow down, or you'll fall again."
She frowned, trying to work out why he was aiding her in anything. Then she realised. Any damage she did to him now would still be there when they switched back... Ah well. His reasoning may be faulty but at least he was protecting her, of sorts.
She had to concede that he knew his own body, so she did stop. "How do we do this?" She turned to him.
"Do what?" He feigned ignorance.
"This," she gestured between them. "You can't be me, and I can't be you."
"Well obviously you can't be me," he snorted, "you haven't been a real doctor in years and now you expect that you can get your diagnosis on like me? Please, Cuddy, be serious. And in terms of me being you..." He eyed his new body up and down. "It doesn't seem that hard. Observe: House, no! House, stop eyeing my rack. House, yes, I admit, I'm sleeping with the entire board!"
She swatted him, but launched into her own impersonation. "Oh look!" She crowed. "It's ten am! Means it's time for my nap, see you at three. But wait, where's my gameboy? Oi, black man, go break in somewhere and find it!"
"Take me now, House!" He said, making her voice husky.
"I need to chop off his arm because his pancreas is making his eyes pop out! And I wouldn't surprised if NASA calls you right about now telling you that your giant ass is blocking their satellites view of earth!" She countered, and House nodded, impressed.
Unfortunately for them, Wilson had just entered the room. "What the hell are you two doing?" He sputtered. Sure, they fought and bickered constantly, but they'd just both been struck by lightening. They could have died. And here they were, shouting about Cuddy's ass?
Were they children?
House and Cuddy exchanged a look. How were they going to explain this? "You see, Wilson," House started, and Cuddy instantly panicked. Whatever House now said, Wilson would think came out of her mouth.
"I was just thanking House," he continued, "for doing me on the desk yesterday. It felt so good."
Wilson nearly popped out of his skull.
Oh yeah, Cuddy thought, this wasn't going to destroy her life, career and body at all.